Tag Archives: introverts

The Paradox of Summer

August is almost over and that means the end of summer.  We’ve got some thoughts on guilt, meltdowns, and how our months off might look different next year.

KathySummer Guilt, 2015 Edition

There is no question that Doodlebug learns something important every summer at camp. I don’t mean things like facts about rocks or a new art technique. I mean something about Life. One year, it was that new things are always easier with a friend. Last year, it was that sometimes you have to try new things on your own, but that you’ll survive and maybe even have fun.

This year, she learned that things sometimes look good on paper but turn out to be boring in real life. Also that some kids are just mean.

So yeah, camp didn’t go so well this time around. It didn’t help that iDad and I knew Doodlebug would much rather be home, doing Minecraft or reading or playing with Shopkins. Or, you know, spending time with us. Nothing like a tearful conversation about why parents still have to work all summer to make you question your priorities.

And part of me says, look, we do still have to work. She’s old enough to get that. We did all kinds of things together this summer. Two weeks of half-day camps—thirty hours out of an eleven-week summer—is not cruel and unusual. Yes, she had some rocky moments, but she made it through and I’m proud of her.

Another part of me says, yeah, but it’s camp. You always hated it yourself. Remember Vacation Bible School? Remember the Girl Scout day camp? <shudder> I’m an introvert raising an introvert. I know that camp might turn out to be fun, or it might be a giant drain on your energy tank. That’s the opposite of what summer is for.

So this, I’ve concluded, is the paradox of summer: I feel like I can only gain time for myself by taking it away from Doodlebug. The two weeks of camp were great for iDad and me. We both got much more done without having to scramble around and cover each other’s work time. I felt like I could think straight again after being pulled in a million different directions for weeks. It was a good feeling. But it came at the price of an unhappy kid. Why hello, guilt. So nice of you to join us.

I never feel guilty about sending her to school, just like I never felt guilty about putting her down for a nap when she was two—those are things that have to happen. Learning and sleeping are her jobs, jobs that just happen to come with a side of alone time for me. But camp is different. Camp is optional, and so who is it for? Her, or me? And if it’s for me, is that okay? My head says yes, my heart says no.

So next year, we’ll see. Maybe we’ll try going camp-free, and maybe she can have some sort of long-term summer project to give us some structure. You know I love structure. I’m sure we’ll be able to figure this all out before she turns 18 . . . right?

— Kathy

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Mega Monster Meltdown

Or, the Afternoon I Wished Parenting Weren’t One of My Core Personal Projects

“We’ve all been there,” she said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes. I muttered something like “Thanks” or “Do you want him?” as I walked by her, struggling to contain Lunchbox.

What started as a small disagreement had escalated to a meltdown; I calmly told him it was time to leave the pool. He lost it and suddenly we were at DEFCON 2 in terms of his behavior.  I slung him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes while he kicked and screamed “Nooooooooooooo!!” at the top of his lungs. I was mortified. All eyes were on us as we trudged toward the exit.

After fighting to buckle him into his carseat, I turned on the car and took a deep breath. My hands were shaking and I felt like barfing. This was my worst fear — that my first summer with the kids would be filled with these types of episodes. Could I handle them? What would I do if I lost my temper completely and did something I’d regret? I knew the tantrum would eventually fizzle out and that a cocktail (or four) would help calm me down, but what, if anything, could or should I do to prevent this type of situation? Both Slim and Lunchbox had had their moments, but this was one, if not THE, worst one yet.

Developing a strategy for my first Teacher Mom Summer (TMS) had taken some time. Dreamy and I decided not to enroll the kids in any camps, hoping to save money, and I wanted them to sleep late, eat breakfast in their pjs, and, in general, be lazy. I asked Slim and Lunchbox about things they’d like to do and we came up with a list. We’d do one Big Thing each week (a movie, a museum trip, Lunch with Daddy) and divide up the the rest of the days with visits to the pool, the park, and play dates. Chore and Screen Time would be worked in as well.

This worked for a few weeks. The routine was nice but interrupted by some bigger projects I had hoped to accomplish during the break (such as cleaning, redecorating, and organizing Slim’s “Hoarders” episode-ready room). The kids were frustrated and acted out accordingly; I felt guilty and selfish for not making our plans a priority.

So, old conflict, new circumstances: where’s the line between your own goals and Mom responsibilities? Crossing things off my To Do list helps me feel accomplished, and usually my projects provide much-needed time to myself as well. In an effort to recalibrate I tried working on my stuff in the mornings and doing our planned activities in the afternoon. The result? Progress on Slim’s room slowed and both of them spent waaaay too much time staring at screens. I don’t have an answer but am thinking that my TMS flow will take time to evolve, much like my school-life flow (see my previous post).

As we hurtle towards a new school year, I already know next summer will look a bit different: one or two camps per kid; two or three dedicated afternoons to myself each week; and perhaps better expectations management on my part. Maybe such a plan will help us avoid mega monster meltdowns and me wishing for an extended and semi-permanent break from motherhood.

Thoughts please, fellow Introverted Moms!

— Tiffany

Holiday Hot Wash

This week the Moms hot wash their holidays.  One of us got sick and started thinking.  And the other one hit the wall contemplating baked goods.  Read on for their after-action report.

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KathyLooking back at my list of strategies, I should feel pretty good about this past holiday season. I successfully avoided shopping at the mall. We had fun at the neighborhood party. I even got a reprieve on the caroling, which was cancelled, woohoo! I mean, bummer.

My overall cookie count was a little low, mostly because I came down with strep throat the weekend before Christmas. Not recommended. But I recovered in time for us to spend the holiday with my family, and the rest of our break included a visit with iDad’s parents, Legos, reading time, and our New Year’s movie night (well, afternoon). We decorated our gingerbread house on January 4, but it was still winter break so that totally counts as a holiday activity. Right?

I successfully engineered the switch to a chocolate advent calendar, but I found myself struggling with other traditions I’ve loved in the past. Our tree didn’t get decorated until the 23rd, partly because I got sick but partly because I just couldn’t motivate myself to start the process. Our cards were late, and again I can only partly blame the strep. Mostly it was because I kept putting them off.

Is that a sign that I should pull back on these traditions, too? I don’t see these things as especially draining – it’s not like we invite twenty people over for a tree-decorating party, we just turn on some holiday music and go for it. And sure, writing notes and addressing cards takes time, but I can do that by myself, with a mug of hot chocolate by my side. These things should be antidotes to the holiday madness of the outside world, but this year they felt like chores.

Still, I can’t imagine Christmas without a tree – I know Doodlebug enjoys decorating it, and that’s definitely a tradition I want her to grow up with. She couldn’t care less about whether we send cards, and truthfully iDad would be fine with dropping them too, but again, sending and receiving cards is a big part of Christmas for me.

So maybe the answer isn’t cutting back on these traditions, but being even more careful about how we spend the rest of our time during the holidays? I did notice that Doodlebug didn’t seem to care about seeing other kids as much as I thought she would – she really seemed to crave time to do her own thing. I think we struck the right balance for her. I’ll keep trying to find it for myself.

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128The holiday break started off inauspiciously:  a busy Friday at work compounded by a soul-sucking two-and-a-half hour commute home. Saturday was booked with errands and a Brownie event for Princess Slim. Sunday was a cookie exchange for which I had absolutely nothing prepared. So by early Saturday afternoon I was an exhausted and sobbing mess.  Merry Christmas, dammit.

Fortunately Dreamy stepped in and took Slim to Brownies. Lunchbox napped and I recovered enough to get a few things done around the house.

On Christmas Eve I baked and puttered and did holiday stuff. Around 3 p.m. Princess Slim went to church with Dreamy and Lunchbox went down for his nap. “Nuts,” I thought, “I need to start that cinnamon roll dough because having homemade rolls on Christmas morning will be the best thing EVER.” Mixletrisetwohoursrolloutslicerisebakefrost.

But I was tired. And sitting on the couch in a quiet house with a cup of tea felt lovely. Thus launched the following rather schizophrenic internal dialogue:

I really want to bake these rolls.

Are they mission-critical to a good Christmas?

No, they aren’t, but they are so delicious and they will be the best thing EVER.  Maybe I could make them tomorrow morning.

So you are going to voluntarily wake up at 5 a.m. to allow enough time for the double-rising and baking?  Right.  Who’s going to eat these things anyway?

Well, I would.  And Dreamy.

The kids?

Probably not.

Relax then.  And your thighs have enough rolls already, k?

But homemade cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning will be the best thing EVER.

Girl, please.

The Great Cinnamon Roll debate perfectly encapsulates what this Christmas was about for me:  listening to that internal voice that asked “Really?  Do you absolutely need to do Thing X and exhaust yourself?  Why are you doing Thing X?  For the kids?  For yourself?  To conform to someone else’s idea of a perfect holiday?”

This year I made a conscious choice to listen to that voice. There were hot baths. There were naps. There was even a little exercise, for God’s sake! Of course there was stress but the overall pace and vibe of the holidays was saner and more civilized than in years past. The kids seemed to sense this too. They played well together, for the most part, and like Doodlebug were fine doing their own things.

While I still returned to work tired and worn out the feeling this year wasn’t nearly as demoralizing and devastating as usual. When people asked how my break was, I replied “Good!” — and actually meant it.

Did I make the rolls? Nope. I snuggled with Lunchbox and slept for two hours. Merry Christmas to ME.

— Tiffany

Dear Princess Celestia…

Doodlebug and Princess Slim love their “My Little Pony.” The dolls, the play sets, and of course the television show, called “My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.”

The Moms like how the show focuses on friendship and being true to yourself, and the episodes often end with the ponies recapping what they’ve learned. So what have we, as introverts, learned about friendship so far?

P.S. Want to know which pony you are? There’s a fun quiz here.

Signed,
Twilight Sparkle and Twilight Sparkle (Yep, we took the quiz!)

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KathyConsider this the next stanza in Tiffany’s Ode to the Internet from a few weeks ago – although social media can be addictive and a huge time-waster for me, I love how it helps me keep old friendships alive and nurture new ones.

I’m definitely someone who likes to gather her thoughts before speaking, who doesn’t jump into conversations, who is quiet in a crowd. But, like many introverts, I’m much more myself online, where I can interact at my own pace. It’s not that I’m trying to hide who I am in real life, it’s just that I find it a lot easier to type, rather than talk, about things that are important to me. (Exhibit A: this blog!)

Facebook, despite all its flaws, has become my online home. Twitter moves too fast, and while I love it for stalking (um, following) my favorite authors, I’d rather interact with people I know. I so wish Facebook had been around when Doodlebug was tiny, because it would have been a perfect outlet for me when I didn’t have enough energy to call a friend, let alone get my act together and leave the house for lunch.

I’m lucky to have a great group of Facebook friends (and family) – there are very, very few “Look how awesome I am!” posts and lots of cool photos, funny anecdotes, thought-provoking but civil discussions about politics and society, and obsessive threads about Sherlock, Downton Abbey, or Harry Potter. (Did you get the stamps? You’ve got to get the stamps!)

And while it’s a great place to keep up with my high school and college friends, Facebook is the perfect place to get to know new acquaintances almost effortlessly. Sometimes it turns out we don’t have much in common, but other times I’ve lucked out and ended up with true friends. Or, in one case, a friend plus a blogging partner. All together now – awww!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128Facebook tells me I have 452 friends. I find this astonishing. In fact, one of the 452 recently called me out and asked “How can you call yourself an introvert with 452 friends?” Good question. Depends on one’s definition of “friend.”

The majority of those 452 people are from previous parts and periods of my life.  I deeply enjoy and value staying in touch with all these folks and keeping up with gossip and kids and life’s ups and downs. My philosophy of friendship, however, is more consistent with this George Washington quote:  “Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.”

But let’s say, God forbid, something terrible happens in the middle of the night. Would I reach out of any of those 452 people? Probably not. While the two or three people I would call (excluding family) are included in that number they don’t use the site much. We don’t talk on the phone every day, nor do we email or chat or interact on a regular basis. This may not sound like much of a friendship, you might be thinking. No girl talk? No bellyaching about work or spouses? Wha??

This type of atypical relationship works beautifully for a few reasons. First, these inner-circle friends are mostly introverts as well, thus we respect each other’s need for space and connect – virtually or in person – if we’re up to it. Second, of course the girl talk and bellyaching happens. Perhaps unfortunately for these select few friends, they are the people I call sobbing when work has been shit or when I need a proofreader or someone to tell me that yes, my ass looks huge in that dress and it should never be worn again. Just because we don’t chit chat every fifteen minutes doesn’t mean we aren’t there to support each other in our own quiet, unobtrusive way.

Finally, I am so wiped out by the end of the day (let alone by the end of the week) it is all I can do to get home and get through the 5 to 8:30 p.m. madness. Forget happy hour, forget going shopping on the weekend, forget anything that involves a crush of people or traffic. Will I text these few people until the sun comes up? Yes.  Write long emails to them? Yes. And they will do the same because they are drained too. And I’ll feel as if the time has been well spent and that we are good.

For what it’s worth there is an extrovert in this tiny group. One of the reasons I love her to bits is that I can say, straight to her face, “That’s it. I’m ready to be by myself now.” And she gets it.

True friend, indeed.

—  Tiffany

Alone Together

The Moms did not become moms by themselves.  So who are Dreamy and iDad? Which mom is married to a fellow introvert? Which mom is married to an introvert in theory but an extrovert in practice?  Read on to find out.

tiffany_head_128Not long ago I was chatting with another mom at a birthday party. After hearing how old Slim and Lunchbox are and that both Dreamy and I work outside the home, she said “Oooh, you’re in the hurt locker.” I laughed and agreed and noted this term must be employed more often in casual conversation.

The phrase rattled around in my head for awhile but, after seeing the 2008 film “The Hurt Locker,” it took on new meaning. I started thinking that, in some respects, raising children is not unlike war: it is an emotionally, intellectually, and physically unrelenting task, involving multiple explosive-laden stages (toddlerdom, teenagers), strategies (sleep and potty training, time outs) and weapons (bottles, blankets, pacifiers). If you are fortunate you have someone in your foxhole for support, a partner who has your back and will support you during the exhaustion, the frustration, and the soul-crushing fatigue. A partner who also knows your strengths and weaknesses and from whom you can learn how best to manage in combat.

Or maybe that’s just my introverted perspective. Fortunately I’ve got Dreamy in my foxhole. In many ways he is an introvert with superhero-strength extroverted abilities. He doesn’t need as much recharge time as I do, for example, and he is infinitely better at some aspects of parenting than I am. I’ve learned a great deal from him and found that implementing some of his tactics can turn a bad day into a pretty darn good one.

Some of his most helpful strategies are:

1.  Have a plan.

Dreamy recently went on a much-deserved overnight trip by himself.  This left me facing two weekend mornings — usually a war zone at our house — alone. Did I panic? No. I thought about what he would do and used preparation, one of my six introvert strengths, to organize a schedule for both days. As much as I loathe the idea of managing and organizing what is supposed to be “free” time the result was positive: two mostly happy kids and one relieved mom.

2.  Get out of the house.

Prior to marriage and family I could stay in my apartment for days with limited human interaction. My offspring, however, think staying home equals a prison sentence. Getting out is exceptionally difficult for me. Weekend mornings used to be about relaxing; now it is difficult to ignore the massive chore list that piles up during the week and shouts for attention on weekends. It is tough to silence the shouts even if it is to everyone’s benefit, particularly the kids. So on Saturday morning I ignored the chores, bundled everyone up and took them on a leaf-hunting expedition in a nearby park. We had a great time and, more importantly, no meltdowns!

3.  Wear them down.

This is a no brainer and more than a little embarrassing it has taken me so long to embrace it. Saturday’s leaf hunt also included a trail walk through the woods, playground time, and let’s-run-the-bases-at-the-ball-diamond time. The best part was we had all the facilities to ourselves, and the only two people with whom I had to interact were Slim and Lunchbox. After lunch, Lunchbox and I napped while Slim went to a playdate. Come bedtime they were out cold. WINNING.

These tactics seem so simple, so obvious, that I wonder why it has taken me so long to get with it. Probably because these activities are not the way I would choose to spend my free time. The proverbial light bulb clicked on, however, and I understood that this weekend wasn’t my time, it was our time. So, check, get over myself and put the kids first. Fortunately I was able to take a few small, marginally restorative breaks.

I suppose my motivation to make this solo weekend different also stems from Dreamy’s last mini-break. When he came home I was angry, exhausted, and emotionally fried. That’s a combination of ugly to which no one should be exposed, especially those whom I hold most dear. What’s that saying about those who fail to learn from the past? Something about being doomed to repeat it?

Overall the weekend turned out well (minus the epic fail that Sunday morning turned to be, but that’s another story) and reminded me that as parents we should constantly be observing others and learning new skills. And sometimes the person with the very best lessons to teach happens to be hunkered down in the foxhole right next to you.

— Tiffany

KathyYou will probably not be surprised to hear that iDad loves computers. He also loves playing music, reading, watching movies, sleeping, and anything that has to do with water. He can go for hours happily immersed in his own world. In other words, he’s a fellow introvert.

I know that often introverts will pair up with extroverts, the whole “opposites attract” thing. And we are opposite in certain ways (me + water = no), but I’m happy I live with someone who doesn’t need to be with me 24/7, who knows I’m not offended when he wants to do his own thing.

Still, parenting with an introvert is trickier than being married to one. I feel like iDad is constantly bailing me out — taking over at the end of the day when Doodlebug was tiny, stepping in nowadays when I need to retreat after an outing. He’s so conscientious about my time that I sometimes worry he’s left holding the bag when I can’t take another minute.

He says he doesn’t feel that way, though, and I think it partly has to do with our different socializing styles. I push myself to stay on for the entire time I’m with other people, while iDad is much more comfortable taking mini-breaks to read a magazine, play some music, or just retreat into the kitchen (even if it’s someone else’s!) for a snack. So even if we spend all day extroverting, he’s grabbing time to himself throughout. I could stand to borrow some of these strategies.

Plus, as we discovered with the HSP survey, certain situations are in fact more draining for me than for him. So maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty if I need to take my time right away, as long as I make sure he has some time to himself later.

Probably the trickiest thing to negotiate since becoming parents has been the balance between family time, couple time, and alone time. Sometimes, with everyone (Doodlebug included) happy to go their separate ways, the three of us don’t spend a lot of time together. Even family time can be draining for me — it’s different now that Doodlebug is older, but there are still plenty of nights when all I want to do is be by myself once she’s asleep.

Now that iDad and I both work at home, though, we have a little more flexibility. We can sneak out to a movie during the day. We can all ride bikes together one afternoon and then he and I can catch up on work that evening. We can eat lunch together if we want. Or near each other, reading separate books. Can’t get much more introverted than that!

— Kathy

Just Saying No

To paraphrase Mr. T, pity the introvert who signs up to be room parent. It’s that time of year again — read on to find out how the Moms handle those nonstop requests to volunteer at school.

KathyOn Monday afternoon I was chatting with another mom on the playground. “Are you going to be room parent again?” she innocently asked me. “You did such a good job last year.”

I’m pleased to report I did not run away screaming.

Here I must note that TEACHERS ARE AWESOME. I’m a teacher’s kid, and I absolutely understand how much time, work, and love the job requires. I want to support Doodlebug’s teachers and her school, and I have the flexibility in my schedule to do so. I like getting to know her classroom, the other kids, and her teachers.

But. But but but.

I learned last year that being room parent is a terrible fit for me and my personality. Doodlebug’s class actually had three room parents, but I ended up being the lead, which meant I:

  • Attended several PTA meetings.

  • Sent countless emails, only some of which were answered.

  • Collected and managed the funds for class parties and teacher gifts.

  • Planned and executed said parties.

  • Came up with ideas for and purchased said gifts.

  • Spearheaded our class’s Teacher Appreciation Week efforts, which included cards, flowers, and food.

  • Participated in a snowman t-shirt stamping extravaganza.

  • Helped 24 seven-year-olds tie-dye t-shirts.

  • Presented flowers to the music teachers after the play.

  • Made Valentine’s Day cupcakes, decorated melted snowman water bottles, and did something for Halloween that I’ve mercifully blocked out of my mind.

  • Procured bags and bags of candy for a gingerbread-house-making-fest.

Actually, now that I look at the list, I see a very clear breakdown of things I enjoy vs. things that make me want to hide in a dark room. Anything where I got to play with sugar was fun. Anything where I was with a group of kids for more than 15 minutes, not so much. Meetings, no. Organizing other people, dealing with money, paint? No, no, NO!

So I politely told the playground mom that I’d be taking this year off instead of screaming “Never again!” There are other, more introvert-friendly ways to volunteer at school.

  • Help stuff the kids’ take-home folders.

  • Make copies for the teacher.

  • Bring coffee and/or snacks to teachers or office staff.

  • Bake treats for parties.

  • Send in paper products for parties.

  • Volunteer to pick up teacher gifts, flowers (no presenting!).

  • Shop for supplies for crafts.

  • Send in money/t-shirts/other supplies when room parents ask. (Note for parents who aren’t able to help in the classroom – this is so much more important than you think! I was grateful for each and every person who sent in funds. And it was a huge help when people remembered to send in materials for craft projects.)

So this year will be different. At Back-to-School Night, I walked by the table full of volunteer sign-up sheets and didn’t put my name down for a single job. I’m going to wait and see what opportunities come up during the year, and I’m only going to choose ones I’m excited about.

NO TIE-DYE!

— Kathy

tiffany_head_128I have no time to volunteer. So I write checks. And respond in a timely fashion to PTA or teacher requests. And bake when I can. That’s all the mental energy I’ve got, people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love teachers and I admire and respect parents who provide material and physical support by organizing and leading activities. But I don’t think I am one of those parents. Even if I did have time would I volunteer for classroom activities? I like the idea of volunteering at school but let’s be real here: ONE seven-year old wears me out. A room full of seven year olds? Um. Would I get a week by myself in Bali to recover? Could I volunteer to reshelve books in the library after school hours? Because that’s about my speed.

I want to support Princess Slim as much as possible, of course, but for me, right now,  support means creating a home environment conducive to learning, emphasizing the importance of reading, feeding her healthy food, and making sure she gets enough sleep. And by loving her to bits for who she is. If I contribute bake sale brownies made from a box instead of from scratch it doesn’t mean I support her any less, nor does it mean I’m an inferior parent. This is what I can do right now. And you know what? Seven year olds can’t tell the difference between boxed and homemade anyway!

You’d think this would cause an Instaguilt™ flare-up. Fortunately it doesn’t thanks to plenty of therapy and the ability to say no;  in fact, the necessity of saying no. If you have a difficult time with the latter this article offers a quick and easy tutorial. I find the idea of a Resentment Journal delicious. Oh, the pages I could fill…

I make kick-ass from-scratch brownies, however. Just so you know.

— Tiffany